


and right now they're building a coffin your size

by ughdotcom



Series: Either like really deep or complete shit IDK [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Based on Mama by MCR, Death, Don't copy to another site, Homophobia, M/M, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22721629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ughdotcom/pseuds/ughdotcom
Summary: And when we go don't blame us, yeahWe'll let the fire just bathe us, yeahYou made us, oh, so famousWe'll never let you goAnd when you go don't return to me my love- Mama, My Chemical Romance
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Either like really deep or complete shit IDK [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644253
Kudos: 4





	and right now they're building a coffin your size

He gets the call, and he hangs up right away. He isn’t going to grace his mother with his presence, if she is dying or not.

He had died five years ago that day. She could have the same pleasure.

When his one true love had died, he had died, and he had no one to turn to. Not a mother, not a friend.

The phone rings again. He grabs it angrily. “What?” a weak cough on the other end, and his name. “Oh, mother.” his voice is cold, biting. “Did you not get my letter?”

“I did. Do you want to revoke it before I die?” her voice is cold and regal, even as she withers away.

“You deserve your fate.”

“Do you think I deserve to go to heaven?”

“Mama, we all go to hell. I wrote you that letter, I wished you well, what do I get in response? Mama, we’re all gonna die, yes, mama, we’re all gonna die.”

“Wha-”

“Stop asking me questions, I’d  _ hate _ to see you cry, and mama?”

Her voice at the last time he saw her floated in his head as he spoke: “and when you go don’t return to me, my love”.

She starts to speak but he cuts her off. “Mama, we’re all full of lies. Mama, we’re meant for the flies, and right now they’re building a coffin your size, oh Mama, we’re all full of lies. Oh mother what the war did to my legs and to my  _ tongue _ ,” he spit his next words with cruel mockery of what she had told him over and over. “You should have raised a baby girl, I should have been a better son. If you can coddle the infection, they can amputate at once!”

“You should have been-”

“I could have been a better son!” he fired back.

His memories flood him as he stands there, a phone held to his ear with his dying mother on the other end. "You ain't no son of mine,” she had said “For what you've done. They're gonna find a place for you and just you mind your manners when you go.

And when you go, don't return to me, my love."

“That’s right!” he spits at her. “Mama, we all go to hell, and it’s really quite pleasant except for the smell, Mama, we all go to hell!”

“But if you would call me a sweetheart, I’d maybe then sing you a song.”

“But the shit that I’ve done with this fuck of a gun, you would cry out your eyes all along! We’re damned after all, through fortune and flame we fall, and if you can stay then I’ll show you the way to return from the ashes you call.”

He speaks this part less to his mother, less to her lies and screams and hate, and more to his dead lover.

“Because we all carry on when our brothers in arms are gone, so raise your glass high, for tomorrow we die and return from the ashes you call!”

He hears her crying, and crying, and it fades out till he can no longer hear her crying. He sets the phone down, and it doesn’t make a sound as it hits the holder. He looks up from the floor and his feet to see his lover, hand outstretched, a loving smile on his face, music softly playing.

“Dance with me.” The lost love says, and as the grieving man takes his hand he wonders if his mother was the one dying at all.


End file.
